328. Beggar Siblings - Sauer Viscounty
"Sister, I can’t do this! This feels like so sort of 'right of the first night' ritual. At this rate, I’ll never get married!"
"But, dear, think it over..."
"Sister, you should think it over yourself. Even though your husband agreed, he couldn’t have liked it. Anyway, I’m leaving."
With those final words, the lady-in-waiting that had been so hard to hire stord out of the estate.
Nella, not even twenty and already the head maid, let out a sigh.
Though her title was "head maid," there were only four maids, including herself, in the entire Sauer Viscounty—well, now just three.
And even among those remaining, one was a cook, and the other was a sewing maid, which ant Nella was the only one working as a personal maid.
The Viscounty’s financial situation wasn’t exactly promising. And, truthfully, lack of funds wasn’t the only issue.
For now, her imdiate concern was the open shift that night. And she needed to report to the Viscount… Just as Nella was worrying, the door creaked, and an unfamiliar visitor entered, asking:
"Are you the head maid? The guards said the house steward is missing and to find the head maid."
"Ah, yes. How can I help you?"
She assud he had co to collect a debt.
Debt collectors showed up like clockwork every harvest season, and this young man seed to be arriving a bit late in the season.
With the stores emptied out right after harvest, all that remained was borrowing more money.
They had long ago lost the ans to pay the knights who had guarded the Viscounty faithfully for years, and had handed out parcels of land in lieu of wages. Most of the knights had either recruited tenant farrs or left without hesitation, sighing at the "primitive arrangent" that dated back to the Arcaea Empire.
It would’ve been a relief if the old steward had stayed, but he had snuck away in the dead of night.
Now, with an apologetic look she had perfected, Nella waited for the debt collector’s reproaChapter Finally, the small man spoke.
"I’ve co to et the Viscount of Sauer. My na is Lean de Yeriel."
"I’m sorry, but I can’t allow you to see the Viscount. If you have a matter to discuss, you may tell ."
"…Did you not hear ? I am Lean de Yeriel."
"I’m truly sorry. I can see that you’re a noble, but please state your business. If you’ve co to collect a debt, we have nothing to give at the mont. You said your na was Lean… de Yeriel, yes? Please return around the ti of the winter radish harvest, and I’ll make sure..."
"…"
"You insolent wench! Do you know who stands before you? This is Lord Lean de Yeriel!"
"Ah! My apologies!"
"……"
Lean was speechless.
Not only did she not understand the significance of "de" in his na, she was apologizing to the knight rather than to him.
As they say, "The law is far, but the fist is close." The knight was soone she recognized. Lean… well, he had grown up with little, so his stature wasn’t particularly impressive.
Swallowing his pride, Lean waited for the knight to handle the situation, realizing just how wise it had been to bring a knight along from Count Peter.
The knight sternly scolded the inexperienced and uninford young head maid.
Soon, Nella bent over in a 120-degree bow, repeatedly apologizing. However,
"I’m sorry! I’m truly sorry! I didn’t recognize the royal lord…"
"…That’s enough."
It was so absurd that Lean couldn’t help but tell her to stop.
The so-called head maid had her long hair loose and swinging as she bowed, making him feel as though he were bothering a common village girl rather than the maid of a noble house.
The Viscounty’s condition had been clear from the mont he set foot in it.
The territory, which should at least function as a small provincial town or market hub, was desolate and sparsely populated.
The castle itself was overgrown with weeds, lacking a steward, and here was this young girl calling herself the head maid—there was no way the place could be properly managed.
Lean asked again.
"I am here to et the Viscount Sauer. Can you show to him now?"
"Uh... well, the thing is…"
Sssss. As the knight glared at her, Nella quickly answered.
"The Viscount is… not likely to be available right now. He’s probably drinking…"
Since morning?
But Lean didn’t criticize her. It wasn’t his place to judge.
"Then, even if it’s a bit improper, please show us to our rooms first. We’ll likely be staying for at least a month or two, so I’d appreciate a furnished room."
"Yes, yes. Two rooms should be sufficient, right?"
"What? Two rooms? We’ll need at least four."
"Uh? Why? A room for the royal lord and one for the knight should suffice, right? The other rooms need to be cleaned…"
"…You there, fetch our maids for us. That might be faster."
The knight dashed off to bring back the maids from Lean’s party, whom Count Peter had lent him. It was impossible for Lean and Lerialia, two royals, to travel with just a single knight as their only attendant.
They had brought three carriages.
One carriage carried Lean and Lerialia in comfort, while a second carried the royals’ clothes and personal items. The third was a supply wagon with basic goods, food, and bedding for the maids, a young attendant nad Santian, and the coachn.
When the carriages didn’t reach a town in ti, the two maids and Santian would sleep at the back of the supply wagon, while the coachn would draw a canopy over the carriage seats and sleep there.
The knight drove the carriage Lean and Lerialia rode in, but this arrangent posed its own issues.
The knight was entitled to far better accommodations than the maids, attendants, and coachn. Assigning a knight to drive a carriage was a grave breach of protocol.
Normally, Lean would’ve been expected to sleep in the carriage that held their clothing, which would’ve ant bringing yet another carriage. To avoid that, Lean and Lerialia shared the larger carriage—a risky arrangent by so standards, but one allowed since they were siblings.
Thus, they had pared down their entourage to three carriages: five servants, one knight, and two royals—a frugal setup indeed.
Two rooms? Not even close.
Even if she didn’t know about Lerialia, she should’ve assud that a royal lord would have at least two attendants.
It was a different situation, but when Prince Arnulf de Klaus of the Astin Kingdom visited Orville, he had brought over a dozen maids, more than five knights, and a number of soldiers.
Soon, Count Peter’s knight returned with two maids.
Experienced and well-versed in dealing with high nobility in Orville, they swiftly took the young provincial head maid aside.
Before getting to work, they guided Lean to the parlor, seating him there. When they returned, the head maid’s long hair was now tightly bound.
With a stronger sense of discipline instilled, her deanor had visibly changed.
The oldest maid (in her mid-thirties) spoke.
"Your Highness, fortunately, there are a few suitable rooms available for use. One of the warr rooms, located above the kitchen, could be given to Princess Lerialia, while you, Your Highness, could take a guest room on the first floor. Once we’ve finished cleaning, I’ll confirm it with you."
"Thank you."
"What on earth is this?"
At that mont, a man staggered in, clutching the doorfra.
His bloodshot eyes hinted that he either hadn’t slept or was drunk, and soon enough, the sll of alcohol was unmistakable. Lean was at a loss for words.
Why is this man here?
He was the owner of the Orange Theater.
Lean was montarily at a loss. The man before him was the owner of the theater that had appeared after the brothel where his sister worked disappeared. It took him a mont, but he finally rembered—this theater owner’s na was also Bretin.
Which ant that back then, the man managing the theater had been Bretin Sauer, supposedly the elder brother of Brian Sauer, the legitimate heir to the viscountcy…?
The situation was so baffling that Lean found himself thoroughly taken aback.
What he hadn’t known was that when his sister had rushed off to the brothel, the manager there had also been Bretin Sauer.
“Viscount!”
With a distressed look, Nella rushed over to support Bretin.
Everything was overwhelming—this man was royalty, the knight was terrifying, and the maids who had suddenly appeared were harsh beyond asure.
She had been feeling utterly helpless when her only source of relief appeared.
Finally, with a slightly steadier expression, Bretin Sauer asked,
“Nella, what is all this? Who are these people?”
“A guest has arrived. Not a debt collector… um, Lean de Yeriel? He’s supposed to be a prince.”
“Lean de Yeriel?”
Bretin Sauer straightened himself, though a bit unsteadily.
“A prince from the Kingdom of Conrad…? I thought I’d heard you’d passed away. I must have been misinford.”
Apparently, he wasn’t well-inford. Lean gave a slight nod.
“Pleasure to et you. You must be Viscount Bretin Sauer.”
“Yes, well… an honor to et you. It’s been a long ti since we’ve had guests. Would you care for sothing to eat? I’m starving.”
“I already had breakfast.”
Both n thought the sa thing: We’re not going to get along. Since royalty couldn’t exactly wait for a noble to finish his al, Bretin went ahead and began eating so refreshnts.
In the dusty parlor, sipping cheap tea, Lean found himself curious.
This man, who now drank from morning on, was a far cry from the person he’d encountered as a theater owner.
Back then, he had seed rather gentlemanly, known to be generous enough to house so of the theater’s employees on its upper floors, and even friendly with Ober.
But now, as a viscount, he was practically ruined. This change in status had co about due to shifts in the engagent scenario…
---
"How did Bretin end up inheriting the family title? He’s the son of a concubine, so shouldn’t you, Brian, be the rightful heir?"
Before leaving Orville, Lean had asked Brian Sauer this exact question, hoping to understand why he wasn’t the viscount.
Brian had responded bitterly:
"That’s right! It’s all because of Arista de Klaus, that tyrant of a king from the barbarian kingdom."
The issue stemd from the fact that the Kingdom of Aslan had not fractured into civil war.
Arista de Klaus—a king Lean had assud was killed by Malpas and Halpas—had apparently survived, and he had always been fixated on consolidating royal authority.
Brian Sauer’s mother hailed from Astin… no, the Aslan Kingdom.
She was the daughter of the Viscountess of Brina, a noble house in Aslan. She had crossed the border and married into the Viscounty of Sauer in Bellita, claiming the position of the viscount’s legitimate wife.
However, she failed to produce an heir, and the Viscount of Sauer, in need of a successor, took a concubine.
Bretin Sauer, the son born to that concubine, was Brian’s half-brother, as Brian had been born to the legitimate wife, albeit later on.
Half-brothers. It wasn’t hard to guess what kind of complications might have arisen. Most likely, a succession dispute had ensued.
Initially, Brian had won. But then, things had taken a turn. Arista de Klaus, then a prince, intervened in the succession dispute.
"There was an accident. Father and his concubine died in an unfortunate incident. My mother tried to secure my succession, but Arista de Klaus, who was then a prince, interfered and made that impossible."
It seed Arista de Klaus had deed the Brina Viscountcy’s influence too expensive.
The Brina family had sent their daughter to the neighboring Viscounty Sauer, and now her son was poised to inherit the viscountcy. It was a scenario reminiscent of when the king of the Eastern Kingdom had checked Marquis Guidan’s power after Guidan tried to marry off Harie to a foreign prince.
Perhaps Arista de Klaus suspected that the deaths of the Viscount of Sauer and his concubine had been orchestrated by the Brina family, prompting him to arrange for Bretin, rather than Brian, to inherit the title.
But why had Bretin ended up in such a state? He was now nothing like the man he’d been.
Figuring that out is the key, Lean thought, opening his mouth to speak.
But first, securing a place to stay.
"Apologies for the disturbance. Although I’ve arrived, I was inford that the Viscount couldn’t see right away, so I thought I’d take the liberty of settling in. Would it be alright if I stayed for a few days?"
Bretin’s face contorted slightly as he answered.
"Suit yourself. There are plenty of rooms. But we’re hardly in a position to entertain a prince. Don’t expect more than a room to stay in."
At least he had secured a place to stay...
Lean shot a glance to the maids, signaling them to begin cleaning as he replied.
"That’s quite alright. But… it does seem the estate is sowhat troubled."
"That’s how it is."
"…I’ve heard that managing an estate is no easy task. The yields must be poor?"
"Well, yes."
"…"
The Viscount didn’t seem interested in talking further.
Seeing him focus solely on eating, Lean prodded the conversation forward, hoping to steer it toward trade.
"And how is business? It strikes that this would be a fine place to start a trading venture."
“Did Marquis Tatian send you?”
At this, Bretin abruptly turned and asked.
“Or are you here under my brother’s influence? Let make this clear—I have no interest in smuggling.”
His gaze turned cold, sharp as a knife.
Feigning ignorance, Lean quickly replied, “I’m not sure what you an,” adopting a genuinely puzzled expression.
This wouldn’t be easy, he thought.
Having successfully shifted the subject, Lean then brought Lerialia in from the carriage, where she had been reading, to introduce her.
However, it seed Bretin’s wariness had been stirred, or perhaps he simply couldn’t bear it any longer, as he excused himself, saying he needed to eat. He left with the head maid, Nella, in tow.
---
"This is your room. Do you like it?"
"Wow! The floor is warm! Is this right above the kitchen? I can sll food cooking! Where’s your room?"
Lean showed his sister to her now-tidy room, her face lighting up with delight. Scratching his head, he then went to his own room and collapsed onto the bed.
The theater owner.
This is a real problem. He had no prior information about this connection. What was he supposed to do?
And then…
Where is Ray?
He tried to sense the direction of Ray and Rera Ainar. They should’ve arrived before him, but it seed they were still far off.
Reviews
All reviews (0)